information. How had I missed
the nut-a well-educated housewife and mother-who had hung one of
my cases two years earlier because the victim had not been stabbed
by the knife-wielding rapist? Using a knife, she had argued to her
eleven frustrated colleagues, didn't mean just holding it against
someone's neck. If the defendant had wanted to use it, he
would have killed the woman against whose throat he had held the
blade.
The charge went on for more than an hour. Often, at this point
in the trial, I used my legal pad to make lists of the groceries I
had run out of during prolonged litigation or the names of friends
whose calls I'd neglected because of the intensity of the
case.
Today, glancing up from time to time to try to read the
expressions on the jurors' faces, I was charting the
similarities-and the distinctions-in the circumstances of the
deaths of Amber Bristol and Elise Huff.
"You have the obligation to deliberate, ladies and gentlemen,
and to attempt to reach a verdict that will be fair, both to the
people of this state and to the defendant, a verdict that will
reflect the truth based on the evidence in this case that you
believe and on the law as I charged it, whether you agree with
that law or not.
“Now, Ms. Cooper and Mr. Grassley, will you approach the
bench?”
Several jurors stared at Floyd Warren as he shifted his chair to
face them. He tapped his pencil on the table and then again
started picking at his front teeth with the lead point. If they
were trying to discern what had driven this man, who had never
opened his mouth to speak throughout the trial, to commit such a
brutal crime, they would have to do a lot more than consider his
now benign appearance. “Any exceptions to the charge? Any
requests?”
Each of us answered, “No.”
“Then I'll send them inside to begin. Their sandwiches have
already been delivered, so they'll start out with lunch,” Lamont
said. “This could be a quick one. You both in the building this
afternoon?”
Gene Grassley and I nodded and stepped back to our places.
“That concludes all our business, ladies and gentlemen. You will
now retire to begin your deliberations.”
We waited until the twelve jurors were excused and the judge
asked the four alternates to wait in the witness room. “I'll see
you both later,”
Lamont said as he dismissed us.
“Locking up?” I asked Louie Larsen. “Yep. You can leave your
files. Mercer's in the hallway to take you downstairs.”
“None of my amigos lurking today?”
“Three of them showed up in the middle of Gene's argument,”
Louie said, shrugging his shoulders. “I didn't have the
personnel to do any manual searches, and they're the jerks that
broke the machine, so I told 'em they'd just have to wait. Guess
that didn't suit them.”
“You get that group ID'd yesterday?”
“Only the ringleader, the kid we locked up. The others ran too
fast. I gave Mercer the information about Ernesto Abreu.”
“Priors?” I said, opening the courtroom door.
“Drugs, drugs, and more drugs. Felony arrests all knocked down
to misdemeanors.”
“How'd it go?” Mercer asked. “You got a slam dunk this
time?”
“Fingers crossed. Don't jinx me.”
“Kerry's in the conference room. She wanted to be here this
afternoon, to wait out the verdict with us.”
“I like that. Have you spoken with Mike today?”
“Yeah. He's home, waiting on the results of the Huff autopsy.”
The phone was ringing as I stopped at Laura's desk for my messages.
“Hold on,” she said. “Alex has just come in. Let me ask her.”
“Who's that?”
“It's Ed, the intake supervisor from the Witness Aid Unit,” she
said to me, holding the receiver aside. “A young woman tried to
get in to see you this morning. Lobby security knew you were in
trial and sent her around to them to see if they could offer her
some counseling.”
“Why does she want me?”
Laura started to repeat the question
the nut-a well-educated housewife and mother-who had hung one of
my cases two years earlier because the victim had not been stabbed
by the knife-wielding rapist? Using a knife, she had argued to her
eleven frustrated colleagues, didn't mean just holding it against
someone's neck. If the defendant had wanted to use it, he
would have killed the woman against whose throat he had held the
blade.
The charge went on for more than an hour. Often, at this point
in the trial, I used my legal pad to make lists of the groceries I
had run out of during prolonged litigation or the names of friends
whose calls I'd neglected because of the intensity of the
case.
Today, glancing up from time to time to try to read the
expressions on the jurors' faces, I was charting the
similarities-and the distinctions-in the circumstances of the
deaths of Amber Bristol and Elise Huff.
"You have the obligation to deliberate, ladies and gentlemen,
and to attempt to reach a verdict that will be fair, both to the
people of this state and to the defendant, a verdict that will
reflect the truth based on the evidence in this case that you
believe and on the law as I charged it, whether you agree with
that law or not.
“Now, Ms. Cooper and Mr. Grassley, will you approach the
bench?”
Several jurors stared at Floyd Warren as he shifted his chair to
face them. He tapped his pencil on the table and then again
started picking at his front teeth with the lead point. If they
were trying to discern what had driven this man, who had never
opened his mouth to speak throughout the trial, to commit such a
brutal crime, they would have to do a lot more than consider his
now benign appearance. “Any exceptions to the charge? Any
requests?”
Each of us answered, “No.”
“Then I'll send them inside to begin. Their sandwiches have
already been delivered, so they'll start out with lunch,” Lamont
said. “This could be a quick one. You both in the building this
afternoon?”
Gene Grassley and I nodded and stepped back to our places.
“That concludes all our business, ladies and gentlemen. You will
now retire to begin your deliberations.”
We waited until the twelve jurors were excused and the judge
asked the four alternates to wait in the witness room. “I'll see
you both later,”
Lamont said as he dismissed us.
“Locking up?” I asked Louie Larsen. “Yep. You can leave your
files. Mercer's in the hallway to take you downstairs.”
“None of my amigos lurking today?”
“Three of them showed up in the middle of Gene's argument,”
Louie said, shrugging his shoulders. “I didn't have the
personnel to do any manual searches, and they're the jerks that
broke the machine, so I told 'em they'd just have to wait. Guess
that didn't suit them.”
“You get that group ID'd yesterday?”
“Only the ringleader, the kid we locked up. The others ran too
fast. I gave Mercer the information about Ernesto Abreu.”
“Priors?” I said, opening the courtroom door.
“Drugs, drugs, and more drugs. Felony arrests all knocked down
to misdemeanors.”
“How'd it go?” Mercer asked. “You got a slam dunk this
time?”
“Fingers crossed. Don't jinx me.”
“Kerry's in the conference room. She wanted to be here this
afternoon, to wait out the verdict with us.”
“I like that. Have you spoken with Mike today?”
“Yeah. He's home, waiting on the results of the Huff autopsy.”
The phone was ringing as I stopped at Laura's desk for my messages.
“Hold on,” she said. “Alex has just come in. Let me ask her.”
“Who's that?”
“It's Ed, the intake supervisor from the Witness Aid Unit,” she
said to me, holding the receiver aside. “A young woman tried to
get in to see you this morning. Lobby security knew you were in
trial and sent her around to them to see if they could offer her
some counseling.”
“Why does she want me?”
Laura started to repeat the question
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